Saying Goodbye to the Beast
by jengwilson
Summary: According to Josh, Donna needs a new car. According to Donna, Josh is bossy.
1. Chapter 1

**Saying Goodbye to The Beast **

**Author's Notes: This is set 5th season not long after the NASA chick hit on Josh and has 12 chapters.**

I've been working very hard today. Josh has a meeting later on 453, followed immediately by a meeting with the Vice-President. Tomorrow morning he has a meeting on the hill on 737 and being that tomorrow is Saturday, my goal is to not be here for that. God knows he's not able to get the things he'll need for those meetings ready on his own, so like I said, I've been busy today.

This is why I don't feel guilty for playing FreeCell on my computer while eating my turkey sandwich on whole wheat low-carb bread with no condiments, my seven celery sticks and seven carrot sticks with no vegetable dip, and my pear. Did I mention I'm trying to lose five pounds? I am. And no, I'm not one of those freaky women who will never be happy with their bodies because no matter how little they weigh, they need to lose five more pounds. It's just that I bought a gorgeous dress at a consignment shop a few weeks ago, and I really need to lose a few pounds to you know, be able to breathe while wearing it. Of course, at the state dinner I'll be wearing it to next week, there will no doubt be some hoity-toity prima donna who will recognize it immediately and make some sort of remark in a not-quiet voice about how wonderful it is that _her_ dress could be worn again. Bitch.

I'm sorry, I've gotten off-track. So, I've been really busy today and I decide that while eating my not fabulous lunch, I should be able to take a small break and play FreeCell. I like to keep track of the game number I'm on and I refuse to move to the next game until I've won the current one, being that according to the game description, every game is winnable. So I keep a post-it on my computer, and I'm on number 4,328. That might sound sick to you, but I've been doing this for about 6 years, so it's not as bad as it sounds. It averages out to what… about 3 games a day? Ok, so I obviously could've used my time more wisely. Let's not dwell on it.

I've gotten off-track again, haven't I? What were we talking about? Right… I'm eating my not-delicious lunch and playing FreeCell when Josh walks in front of my desk and stops, waiting for me to look up at him. I don't. He sighs loudly and then some booklet type things land in front of me on my desk, on top of my pear, which let's face it, is the only edible thing I'm having for lunch.

Without looking down at them, I say, "Not now, I'm too busy for you."

Being that he's my boss, you'd think he'd be offended or at least taken back by this statement, but he's not. I can only assume he's used to it and is as impervious to me as I am to him. "FreeCell?"

"You taught me to play, it's your fault," I mumble, still not taking my eyes off the screen. I've got to get to the cards under that seventh row, I've got to. Oh, and he did teach me. It was during the first campaign and he had a laptop and very little knowledge of how to use it or what he might use it for. On my third day with the campaign, we were on a bus to who knows where and he was in the seat behind me. When I woke up at 2:15 in the morning, the only glow in the bus was from his seat, so I looked back through hole between the top of my seat and the head rest and saw him concentrating on his computer screen. Positive I was seeing greatness in the making, I watched him for a few minutes until he glanced up and caught me. He raised his eyebrows and stared at me for a few seconds, then proceeded to scoot over from the aisle seat to the window seat and motioned with his head for me to come back there. Excited at the prospect of learning from the great and powerful Josh Lyman, I hurried out of my seat and sat down next to him, where he showed me his screen and said, "Help me with this game." Ahh… brilliance…

"How was I supposed to know you'd form an unhealthy obsession with it? I'd just met you."

Yes! I pull up a red eight in row one and am finally able to move the pile of cards ending in a black seven to it, freeing the seventh row. Trust me, it makes sense. Seeing that this game is all but won, I finally look up at him. Damn he's cute. "Did you need something?" I ask in a bored tone.

Instead of answering, he nods towards whatever it was he tossed on my desk a minute ago. I look down and tilt my head to see what they are. "Where'd you get these?"

"I've been collecting them for you," he says proudly, flashing me the cutest smile and his dimples.

"Mmm hmm…"

"You promised."

I look up at him. "I don't remember that."

He smirks. "Lucky for you, I do."

"But you could be making it up."

"True, but in this case, I'm not."

"How can I be sure?"

"You'll just have to trust me."

I scoff at him. "Trust you? The man who poisoned my innocent mind and got me hooked on FreeCell like a coke dealer would a first-time buyer? I think not."

His eyes widen while I go off on my little rant, but unfortunately I'm unable to deter him from his mission. "Donnatella, you promised."

I look down at the top brochure again. "You haven't come through on your end of the deal, and therefore I don't have to come through on my end."

"Untrue," he says triumphantly. "Have you checked your checking account today? Your direct deposit should have been more than it was two weeks ago."

I nod. "It was…"

"Ah ha!" he says almost accusingly.

"Ah hah," I mimic. "You caught me! It was me in the Billiard Room with the Rope."

He gives me an evil eye. "I picture you more as an in the library with the candlestick sort of girl."

"Don't be ridiculous, Josh. That candlestick's from Tiffany's. It's worth a lot of money."

"Funny," he says, walking towards his office. I go back to my game with a smile because I've won, but I'm too quick in my celebration, because he gets just inside his door before he remembers what he was doing and turns around, coming back up to my desk, and sitting on the corner of it.

"You promised."

I groan and spin around in my chair to face him. "Josh, you didn't get me that raise. That was my yearly raise. My 1.24 raise that amounts to all of $16.68 per check after taxes."

"Less than that after you add a half a percent to your 401K deduction."

"I'm not…" I pout. "I hate you."

He smirks. Bastard. "Hate me or not, you still promised."

I grit my teeth and grip my armrest to keep from strangling him. "You didn't get me that raise."

"You need a new car."

I look towards the wall defiantly. "The Beast's fine."

"See, that's how I know you need a new car. For one thing, your current car has a name. Adults don't name their cars. That means you got it when you were in high school or college. For another, its name is 'The Beast', which means its quality was poor even when you named it."

I stick my tongue out at him. "For your information, we named it that because of its size."

"Because it's huge."

"It's not huge."

"It's huge. It's an old lady car."

"Well my grandmother sold it to me, so there."

"How many miles does it have on it?" I cross my arms and refuse to answer. "How many, Donnatella?"

"64,000."

"I think you're forgetting the two times it crossed from 99,999 to 0."

I shrug. "I'm just reporting what my odometer says."

"Your odometer that stopped working a year and a half ago."

I make a pff sound. "That's hardly the point."

"No, of course not, that's the least of its problems. How much have you spent in repairs on The Beast in the last six months?"

I give him an evil eye. "I haven't kept track."

"How could you? That'd take technology to which only NASA has access."

How dare he bring up NASA after last week's star-gazing with the NASA tramp! "You're not funny."

"Oh but I am."

"Are not."

Without taking his eyes off me, he says, "Larry, tell Donna I'm funny."

I turn around and see Larry walking through the bullpen. "Josh is funny, Donna," he mumbles without looking up.

"Larry's your humor witness?" I ask once he's out of ear shot.

"Larry's a very funny guy."

"Yeah, he's about as funny as my last date." See how he likes it.

His jaw sets and I smile wickedly. It takes him a few seconds to recover. "You said you'd buy a new car when you got a raise."

"No, I said I'd buy a new car when you got me a raise."

"I didn't fire you or give you a poor review, preventing you from getting that raise; therefore I got it for you."

"How kind of you," I deadpan.

He stands up and starts walking towards his office. "I'm sweet like that. Look over the brochures. You're buying a car."

"You're not the boss of me," I shout after him. He chuckles and keeps walking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It being my first Saturday off in eleven weeks, I decide I'm going to sleep in late. I've decided that people ranging in age from thirteen to twenty-three are much smarter than usually given credit. Sleeping in is something they do on a regular basis, which is pure genius. To be honest, I'm not sure what the rest of us are thinking. In preparation for this glorious event, I stay up late cleaning my apartment Friday night so I don't have housework to do on what I've termed "Donna Day." I do a few loads of laundry, vacuum, mop, the whole nine yards. Then, I put extra pillows and sateen sheets on my bed and check three times to make sure I've turned off the alarm. Then, just to be safe, I turn the ringer off on my home phone and leave Josh a message that any call to my cell needs to be accompanied by heavy bleeding or a work emergency and then reiterate that wondering where his spare tie is does not constitute a work emergency, then I crawl into bed and sink into the pillows, where I quickly fall into a comatose type sleep.

The next morning I wake up around nine o'clock and lie in bed reading from one of the greatest novels ever written, Rebecca. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. I had to do a report on it my junior year of high school, and being 'one of those students,' I watched the movie instead of reading the book. Several years later I found my copy when I moved from my parents' house to FreeRide's dump apartment and read it not long after when I was sick with the flu. Germ-ridden piece of crap apartment. Sorry, I digress… I've read it countless times since. There was a sequel called Mrs. DeWinter, written a few decades later by a different author. Don't bother with it; it's far less than amazing.

So anyway, I finally drag my ass out of bed at around 10:30. 10:30, people. This is a concept I can hardly grasp. When I do get up, I pad my way into my kitchen in my gym socks, flannel pajama bottoms and tank top, because let's face it, flannel pajamas are wonderful, but those tops just get all twisted around your body and end up choking you half way through the night. Plus, the button holes are always too big and you end up half naked by morning. Sorry, there I go again...

So I pad my way into the kitchen where I have a not so wonderful breakfast of fat free cottage cheese and two scrambled egg whites with no butter or salt. Clearly, this is the worst part of my morning.

I, however, don't allow this to get me down. Instead, I crawl back into bed and turn on the television. It's Saturday morning, which means nothing is on. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing. This, of course, doesn't stop me from flipping through my 8 channels over and over for more than a half hour. Something catches my eye on public television and I become fascinated by a documentary on John Dillinger, a thief and murderer in the twenties and thirties who was brilliant enough to escape from jail using a gun he carved out of wood but was stupid enough to date a woman who led the feds to him so she wouldn't get deported. This leads me to two questions. Why in the hell was he given a pocket knife in jail, and why are men so easily distracted by beautiful women? I am, of course, referencing Josh's recent… whatever… with the NASA whore.

It's just after the lady in red gets Dillinger killed in ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / Chicago when someone knocks on my door. I quickly snap my head in that direction and listen quietly looking for some clue as to who it is, as though I don't know.

"Donna!" Yep, that's what I thought.

So, you know about the car argument yesterday during my lunch FreeCell break, right? Well, it continued throughout the day, ending at 10:30 last night when he told me we were going car shopping today. I reminded him that I had no intentions of trading in The Beast, but he just smiled and yelled out, "I'll see you tomorrow," as I left the office. I guess he was serious about that.

In my infinite wisdom, my brain being deprived of oxygen or some such crap due to malnutrition and starvation, I decide to pretend I'm not here, staying still and silent on my bed. He hasn't called my cell, which means it's not an emergency and this is Donna Day. I'll be damned if he's going to ruin it. If he's not going to sleep with me, he needs to leave me alone. I have big plans today. I'm going to sugar scrub, scrape dead skin off my heels, maybe put in a dvd… it's a big day.

My cell phone rings then, and I grit my teeth and say words I really shouldn't write down for you fine people to read. I stare at it while it rings a few more times, but I have to answer it, it's part of working at the White House. Finally I groan and pick it up off the nightstand. Yep, it's him.

"Joshua…"

"Donnatella, it's time!" Oh, he's in far too happy a mood.

"Donna's not home. I'll tell her you stopped by."

He chuckles at me. Bastard. "Your piece of shit car's out front."

And I thought it was a good thing that I got a close spot last night. Damn it. "Don't say mean things about The Beast. She can hear you. Anyway, I'm not here. I walked down to the market. I'll be home in two hours."

He laughs. "Really? Two hours, huh? How do you plan on getting two hours worth of shopping home?"

Shit. "I'm going to… steal the cart from the store and push it home."

"Well, that will be something to see. I'll just wait here."

"For two hours? I might… take a walk in the park before I come home." This is so not working.

He laughs. "That's ok; I'll just let myself in with my key and watch TV."

"No!" I scream.

"Donnatella…"

"But… it's Donna Day," I whine.

"Donna Day?" I can actually hear the smirk.

"I hate you."

"I'm coming in."

"I could have a man in here. Naked and… oily." Oily?

"Oily?"

"It's… edible oil and… I just put it on him and I'm…gonna…" I can't even say it.

"Well, that does sound fun, but something tells me you're lying."

"Men find me attractive, Josh. A man would be lucky to have oil licked from his body by me!"

He's quiet after that, but I can hear him breathing heavy. It makes me wonder if he's envisioning the same thing I am. I close my eyes. It's quite the picture.

I snap myself out of it after several seconds. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had a meeting on the hill this morning."

"It's five after one."

"So… the meeting's over?"

"It is indeed. Let me in."

"But…" I whine. "It's Donna Day."

"You work at the White House. You don't get Donna Day for another three years. Let me in. We have plans this afternoon."

Once again I feign innocence. "We do?"

"Nice try. Are you going to let me in or are we going to talk on the phone all day?"

"I have a choice?"

"Let me in."

He can't see me, but I feel the need to cross my arms over my chest and stick my bottom lip out anyway. "You have a key, let yourself in."

I hang up and lie down, pulling the covers up over my head, hoping he'll give up and leave when he doesn't find me. I, of course, know this idea is preposterous, but he's gonna be mean about The Beast. Now I'm whining in my head. I'm pathetic.

About two minutes later I feel the bed shift. He's found me. "Get your scrawny ass up," he says quietly.

"But…"

"I don't give a shit about Donna Day."

I sit up. "But I was gonna sugar scrub and scrape my feet and paint my toenails." As I say this, I throw the covers back and hold my right foot in the air towards his face. He glances at my chest in the tank top I've got on, but at least I don't have that flannel pajama top on with the holes too big for the buttons.

I wiggle my foot and he takes a hold of it and looks it over. "Your foot's fine. Where's your oily beef hunk?"

"Beef hunk?"

"Whatever."

"He snuck out the back window when you let yourself in."

"Wuss, I could've taken him."

"He's very well built Josh."

"Sure he is."

"Hey, he's my make-believe guy. He can be built if I want him to be."

"Uh huh. Get up."

"I have to shower."

"You get ten minutes." I stick my tongue out at him and crawl out of bed.

"Or what?"

"I'm coming in after you." Well, now I have to take longer than ten minutes.

"Pervert."

He wiggles his eyes at me. "Go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Forty-five minutes later, we're leaving my apartment. "Remember, I'm only agreeing to look. I haven't agreed to purchase anything."

Josh hands me a stack of car brochures. "That's not at all true. You agreed to buy a new car."

I ignore his statement. "Where'd you get these?"

"The trash can next to your desk. You must've accidentally knocked them in there. I knew you'd want them," he says with a big smile. He is simply too excited to spend my money.

"Didn't I throw them in there yesterday afternoon when I told you where you and your brochures could go?"

"Ahh… yes," he says as though he's remembering it fondly. "Give me your keys, I'll drive."

"What?"

"I'll drive so you can read the brochures."

Oh shit. "I'm capable of driving, Joshua."

"Are you capable of driving and reading at the same time?"

Josh cannot drive my car. He can't. I go for misdirection. "Some people have multiple gifts. I can, for instance, listen to you bellow and type a memo at the same time."

"That explains the typos," he says as we both walk towards the driver's side of my car.

"You could always type your own memos. Toby doesn't have a problem typing his own things."

"His own things? Speeches you mean? The ones he types as he, you know, writes them?"

"Yes, those. And you could do the same thing with your memos." It's working! Now if I could just steer us back towards my apartment.

"But then how would you point out to me how I've messed up and force me to look at things from your very strange point of view?"

"The point of view you change the wording of and then use, you mean."

"Yes, that one. Now give me the keys." Damn.

Ok, re-group. "If you're so hell-bent to drive, why don't we just take your car?"

He stares at me for a second and takes the keys from my hand. "You'll need to trade in the crap-mobile," he says as he unlocks the driver's side door. Oh shit. I'm about to be in big trouble. I just think you should be warned in advance. Big trouble. Big. Huge.

"I'm only agreeing to look, I'm not necessarily going to buy," I say again as I walk to the passenger side and wait for him to unlock my doors. I don't have power locks, which he's currently looking for on the driver's side door handle.

He pokes his head over the car at me. "How the hell do you unlock the doors?"

"You pull up on the lock, you moron." He raises his eyebrows then finally gets in and reaches over to unlock the passenger door. I sigh heavily and sit in the seat.

"Start reading," he says, tapping the brochures on my lap.

"And anyway, it might take more than one trip to find the right car." See what I'm doing here? I'm stalling.

"Uh huh," he says with a grin. "And how many do you suppose it will take you?"

"Six or seven."

"Six or seven trips, I guess," he says sarcastically as he starts the car. At least, he tries to start the car. The Beast doesn't always start on the first or… you know, fifth try.

"Months."

He tries the ignition again, then stops and stares at the dash for a few seconds. "Is there a trick?"

"I told you, The Beast can hear you. You can't say mean things about her." I pat the dashboard. "Come on, Beastie."

"You talk to it?"

"Her, Josh."

"Oh for crying out loud," he mumbles, turning the key again. Magically, it starts.

"Told you."

"Read," he says, motioning towards the brochures while flipping on the left turn signal to pull out of the spot. Unfortunately, there's no left turn signal. "What the… Am I doing something wrong?"

I shrug and try to look innocent.

"You don't have turn signals?" he says, not quite shouting, but definitely in the neighborhood of shouting.

"I have a right one," I say tentatively.

He shakes his head. "You're getting a car this weekend, Donnatella."

"You know, saying my full name doesn't make you the boss."

He smirks at me. "Whatever you say," he says as starts to pull out of the spot. This is where the big trouble comes in.

"What the hell?" he nearly screams.

"What?" I ask innocently.

"Why in the hell is it so hard to turn the wheel?"

"It is? I hadn't noticed," I say, looking out my window at absolutely nothing.

"Donna!" he screeches.

"Hmmm…" Still going with the innocent routine.

"Donnatella Moss. How long has it been since you've had power steering?"

I shrug. "I can't pinpoint an exact date."

"Ballpark it," he says in a very serious voice. See, he's not taking this as cute and funny as I'd hoped he would.

"A year or two." Or five.

"Two years?" he yells.

"Or one," I say, sticking up for myself.

"Donna, it can be danger…." He stops and takes a deep breath, then talks softer. "Ok, ok. It's fine. We're going to look for a car with power steering and all its turn signals, ok?"

What the hell just happened there? "Oh... kay." He nods and finally pulls out of the parking spot. I know you think the 'me being in trouble' thing is over. Nope.

I start thumbing through the brochures Josh has given me. The first one is Volkswagen? I toss it aside and move onto the next one.

"Don't get them out of order," he says, shifting into third gear. As long as we go up in gears we're ok. Maybe I'll luck out and we won't hit any red lights.

I look over at him. "Out of order?"

"Yes."

"What order are they in, exactly?"

"Best to… not best."

"Worst, you mean."

"No. You're not getting crap. Best to the least best of what's still acceptable."

"To you."

"Yes, but I'm the one who's researched this little adventure, so I get a say in narrowing it down."

I raise my eyebrows. "It's not an adventure, Josh. It's you forcing me to spend money I don't have. I'm still paying off student loans, and shut-up. You have to pay them back even when you don't finish."

"Imagine that." The light in front of us turns red and he tries to downshift as he approaches it. Uh oh.

"Umm… you're gonna want to shift into neutral and then pretend it's automatic to stop."

He glances at me briefly and furiously before following my directions and stopping at the light. Once he's stopped, he looks at me again. "And this problem?"

"It's not a problem, per se. Just… an alternate way of coming to a stop."

"How long, Donna?" he asks me sternly.

A few years. "A few months. I was gonna get it fixed but my mechanic said it'd be about a thousand bucks and…"

"And?"

I look down at my lap and mumble. "And he didn't think The Beast was worth that much."

The light turns green but he's still in neutral, so when he steps on the gas, we don't move. He sighs, pushing in the clutch and putting it in first gear, then drives. "You are so lucky I've never borrowed this car."

I ignore him and look at the next brochure. "An Acura? I can't afford an Acura!"

"You don't even know what they cost."

I look through the brochure. Leather seats, six disc cd changers, all wheel drive, V-6 engine… "They cost more than I have, I'm sure of it."

"Exactly who do you think you're kidding? You're not half as broke as you'd like me to think."

"DC has one of the highest standards of living in the country."

"Yet you walk into the office every morning with a Grande non fat latte from Starbucks."

"I hate you."

"So you keep saying. What the hell?" Crap.

"It only does that sometimes," I say defensively. And that's true. I have to be going at least forty miles an hour for that to happen.

"The car just stalls while you're driving it?"

"Only sometimes," I say calmly again. He begins the process of starting The Beast again. "See, now you know why I'm late sometimes," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

He gives me a look of death. "Today, Donna. Today."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"What are we doing here?" I ask, looking up from the brochures.

"It's on the list," he says, pulling into the dealership.

"But I ruled it out so I could afford a few luxuries in life; things like groceries."

"But I then pointed out that they're not as expensive as you think they are."

"Joshua, I can't afford a Lexus."

"If you're not crazy with your options, it's not that bad. Let's just see…"

He parks and we get out, where we're flogged by a sales associate in about fifteen seconds. They're like sharks. Can't we do something about this? I mean really, we're part of the government. Can't we protect the citizens of the ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / United States from these vultures? I'm bringing it up at the next meeting I worm my way into. I'm going to suggest a bill in which these… piranhas can't come up to you in a car lot unless you… I don't know… wave a white surrender cloth or something at them. Uh oh, they're talking, I should pay attention.

"We'd like to look at an ES330," Josh tells the guy. A what?

The man nods. "Ok, but just so you know, we've got a great deal on our IS350 and our SC430. It'd be a shame if you didn't at least look at them."

Josh pulls something from his pants pocket and looks down at it. "No. The ES330." I try to catch a glimpse as he folds the paper and puts it back in his pocket, but I'm not able to see what it is.

The guy nods and we walk towards some cars. This is going to be my car, right? Why am I so out of the loop? I open the brochure I'm holding and look through it for… what was it? The E something?

We walk up to a dark silver, very nice car and I nearly pass out when I see the sticker price. Thirty-seven thousand dollars?

"Josh," I whisper harshly.

"Don't worry about it," he says quietly, nodding as the idiot who obviously didn't see what we drove up here in goes on and on about the virtues of this car. For thirty-seven thousand dollars, it damn well better come with a chauffeur.

"Are there specific options you're looking for in the car?" he asks Josh. Hello, car purchaser right here.

"To keep in it our price range, we need to keep the options to a minimum." Yeah, like none. Plus, can you get rid of some of the stuff it usually comes with, like the fourth tire and… windows? And what's up with the 'our price range' stuff?

"Can do. Would you like to take it for a spin?"

"She would," he says, nodding to me. Gee, thanks.

Five minutes later, I'm driving a Lexus, which I'm not gonna lie, is a really nice car. I mean, nice. Nice, nice. The shark is next to me talking it up and Josh is in the backseat taking notes in my brochure.

"So, what will you be trading in?" Shark asks as we drive down the street.

"I don't… have a trade in," I say quickly, thinking on my feet. You can't have The Beast! You can't.

"Donna…"

"Joshua…" I say, glaring at him through the rear-view.

Shark laughs. "My wife and I do that too."

"Do what?" Josh and I both exclaim at the same time.

"You know, carry on conversations without using words."

"We're…umm…" Josh begins stumbling over words.

"No need to explain," Shark says before looking over at me. "Is this a family car or will you be the primary driver?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Well, we're not married, so I'll be the primary driver."

Shark looks somewhat taken back, but then laughs it off and looks back at Josh. "What are you waiting for, big guy?" I nearly drive into a tree.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

"They don't have silver."

He looks strangely at me and then at the car next to us. "Uhh…" he says, gesturing to said car, "Yes they do."

"Well," I say in a stubborn voice. "I don't like this shade of silver."

He raises his eyebrows. "This shade of silver?"

"Yes. I like a darker silver, like we saw at the Lexus dealership."

He looks down at the ground and then back up at me. "What about another color?" he asks through gritted teeth.

I look through the brochure in my hand. "Nah…"

"Donna…"

"What?" I ask sharply, looking up at him. "I'm the one who has to drive it. I should get a color I like."

"I'd think any color would be a step above the rust bucket over there," he half shouts.

"So, would you like to test drive it?" the salesman asks quietly, which makes both Josh and myself jerk our heads in his direction.

"Yes," Josh says to the man.

"No," I say at the same time.

"Donna…"

I walk closer to him and speak quietly. "Joshua, this is a thirty-five thousand dollar car. What about a Ford or a Pontiac?"

"No Pontiacs. Absolutely not."

"We have the RSX model in stock, if you're worried about the price," eavesdropper shark says.

I look over at him. "This isn't your cheapest model?" He shakes his head. "Josh!"

Josh pulls out his trusty piece of paper and turns so his back is to shark and me. I try to look over his shoulder, but he shrugs me off and takes a few steps from me. What the hell? Finally he turns back. "Can she test drive both?" he asks shark.

"Sure," shark says like he hates that idea.

Josh looks at me and then back at him. "Ok, but lets drive the TL first."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

By the time we finish driving the Lexus and both Acuras, I'm starving, having had only a few scrambled egg whites and some cottage cheese today. I'm beginning to regret lying around in bed all morning. "Maybe we should stop for today. Get some dinner," I say in a chipper voice. "We can look for cars again next week." Or next month, or even next year.

"Nope."

"Nope? That's it? That's all I get?"

"We're on a tight schedule," he says, grunting a bit as he turns the corner and then mumbling once again how he can't believe I would drive this piece of crap car and how lucky I am that he didn't know how bad it was before today. Blah, blah, blah…

"Ok, I wasn't going to mention this, but I'm starving."

"You're fine."

"I'm not fine, Josh. I could waste away at any minute."

"There's a McDonald's, we'll go through the drive-thru."

I open my mouth in shock. "We don't eat in The Beast, Josh." Although, how delicious would a Quarter Pounder with cheese and a large order of fries be? I mean really, are there French fries anywhere in the world better than at McDonalds? With just the perfect amount of salt and Heinz catsup on them fresh out of the fryer. You know, when they're almost too hot to touch, but… My mouth is watering now, thank you very much. I'm trying to diet here! And have you ever noticed that McDonald's always sounds better when you're dieting?

He looks over at me. "We don't?"

I shake my head. "Absolutely not. I don't want it to smell like food in here."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to cover up the smell of burning oil and over-heating engine."

"You're saying mean things about The Beast again."

"Who me? I'd never say…" he trails off and looks over at me. "Wait a minute."

"What?"

"You've never had any problems eating in my car."

"Well…"

"Oh! Come on!" he shouts as The Beast stalls again.

I chuckle. "What'd I tell you about talking bad about The Beast?"

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

We pull into the Honda dealership, me still starving, and I perk up, rifling through the brochures. "Yes. A Honda Civic. This is more in my price range."

"No Civic," he says with authority.

"What?"

"Not the Civic. You can look at the Accord, the EX only, or the CRV."

"Oh can I?"

He ignores me and parks. "But the CRV is an SUV, which means it gets bad gas mileage."

I glare at him. "I'd like to look at the Civic too. Why don't you pull out your trusty little paper and look into that," I say, getting out of The Beast and slamming the door behind me. Sorry, Beastie.

A female shark finds me before I even get to the cars and takes me over to the Civics. Josh catches up with us and talks down the car. It's too light, it's too small, it could be crushed by a semi-truck, yadda, yadda, yadda. I test drive it and then an Accord, which Josh talks up as though it's a Lamborghini.

"Doesn't this drive smoothly?" It does, damn it.

"Yes Josh, it's drives nicely."

"Better than the Civic, don't you think?"

Yes, better than the Civic. "They're both good."

"Wow, there sure is a lot of room back here," he says stretching out. "You'd have plenty of room for… things back here. And I bet it has a bigger trunk than the Civic."

"I'm sure it does, it being a bigger car and all."

"And it has more horsepower. You need horsepower, Donna."

"Do you even know what horsepower is?" I ask him suspiciously.

"Of course. It gives you more… power… on hills and stuff."

"And when you're driving around horses?" I ask sarcastically.

"Standard anti-lock brakes, Donna. That'll help in the snow. And what about when you go to Cheeseland to visit your family? It snows up there 12 months a year."

"Twelve months, I guess…"

"And it has a stabilizer bar and traction control. And it holds more fuel and has side head curtain airbags."

"Thank you Josh," I say in a voice he knows well.

"And doesn't this have a better warranty?" he asks shark.

"Double the warranty," she says, smiling back at him. If she flirts, even a little, we're not buying a Honda.

"You can ignore him. He's under the impression that I'm not able to car shop on my own."

She shrugs. "I've had worse. He just wants you to have the best."

Well… fine. Put it that way, why don't you?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"One more."

"You don't understand. I'm going to pass out." I'm starving. Starving. And when I'm this hungry, I get grumpy.

"You're fine. One more and then we'll eat." I'd kill him if I had the strength.

"I'm not gonna make it," I say in a weak voice while falling against the window and resting my head on the glass. "I don't even have the energy to hold up my head."

He looks at me and rolls his eyes. "You drive one more car before dinner and I'll buy."

I sit up straight and put on a smile. "Ok."

He looks back at the road and chuckles. "Why am I not surprised that worked?" he mumbles.

I pick up the brochures. "Where are we going next, o' spender of my money?"

"Nissan."

"An Altima?" I ask as I pull out that brochure and look at the first page.

"Maxima."

"But the Altima's in my price range."

"So is the Maxima."

"You clearly don't know what my price range is," I mumble.

"You have to have saved up some money; you haven't had a car payment in what, ten years?"

I look over at him. "For your information, I've never had a car payment."

He groans. "Of course this was already a piece of crap when you bought it. I should've guessed."

"No, I bought if from my grandmother for ten dollars when it was two years old and had eleven thousand miles on it, thank you very much."

"Ten dollars?" he screeches.

"And a promise to have dinner with her at least once a week as long as I lived in ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / Madison."

"Ten dollars and you had to buy her dinner once a week? That's it?"

"I didn't buy dinner," I mumble in embarrassment. No wonder I've never told this story.

"She did?" he screeches even higher.

"Or she cooked," I counter.

"You ripped off your poor elderly grandmother?" he asks me in disgust.

I hit him on the shoulder. "No. It was her idea."

"To give you a practically brand new albeit huge car for ten dollars?" he asks doubtfully.

"Because I was sixteen and going through that age where I only wanted to be with my friends, and…"

He cuts me off. "And Freddie, don't forget" he says in much the same way he says FreeRide's name.

I give him an evil glare. Never again will he get the name of anyone I've slept with. "Freddie came after the car. In fact," I say flippantly, "Freddie came in the car."

"Donna!" he shouts, looking towards the back seat in horror.

I smile triumphantly. "You brought him up. Anyway…" I say pointedly, "Grandma wanted to stay close to me, so she made me promise to have dinner with her once a week. It was nice."

"So, you're telling me that not only are you driving the seventeen year-old car in which you lost your virginity, but that your grandmother helped make that possible."

"She's very progressive."

"Well, the Freddie-mobile is history," he says, pulling into the Nissan dealership.

We park and walk towards the cars, Josh leading. We go a few rows over until we get to the Maximas, and Josh starts looking through the windows. "This looks nice."

I stand on the other side of it. "I don't like the color," I say stubbornly.

"Again with the color?" he asks as he stands up.

I shrug. "It's gold."

He sighs. "Fine. What about that one?" he asks, pointing to one a few cars down. It's a dark gray.

I sigh. "I guess…" It's a really cool color.

"Good enough," he says, walking over to it. "And it's only twenty-nine, five."

"Only?" I ask with raised eyebrows.

"You've gone fifteen years with no car payment; surely you have a nest egg set aside."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shark coming our way. "Here he comes."

"Be nice."

"I'm always nice."

"You told the Lexus salesman he couldn't have your piece of crap."

"I didn't tell him that."

"You pretty much did."

"Well… he wouldn't take care of her."

"Donna, no one's going to take care of her. She's going to the dump."

My mouth drops open. "Take that back!"

"Hi folks," shark says walking up to us. "You're looking at a very popular model there."

I'm still glaring at Josh, but he ignores me and talks to shark. "What kind of financing are you offering?"

He hands Josh a business card which I immediately take from him. "2.9 for up to five years, depending on your credit."

"Her credit's impeccable," he tells shark, as he has every other shark we've met. He's right, but I find myself wondering how he knows.

"I think I'd feel better in an American-made car," I say as I cross my arms over my chest and look across the street at the Chevrolet dealership.

"You haven't looked at a single American-made car all day," Josh reminds me in a low voice.

"You know," shark says. "Most American-made cars aren't all American these days. They use parts from all over the world."

I look over at him. "But they use American manpower."

He smiles wickedly at me. I hate him already. "Nissans are assembled here in the US." Well, fine.

"Can we test drive this one?" Josh asks him.

He nods. "Sure, let me grab the key."

Shark writes down the VIN number and leaves. As soon as he's out of earshot, Josh pounces. "I thought you were going to be nice."

I raise my eyebrows. "I changed my mind."

"You're acting like a child."

"It's like looking in a mirror, isn't it?"

His jaw drops. "I'm not the one holding on to the car in which I lost my virginity. I'm an adult."

"I hate you."

He ignores me and looks up to where shark's walking towards us again. "Here he comes, be nice."

"I don't like the new shark."

"Because he pointed out that you were wrong? I rather enjoyed it myself."

"I hate you."

"So you keep saying."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

We get into The Beast twenty minutes later. "So?" he asks eagerly, as he has every time we've gotten back in the car.

"I didn't like that one. Can we eat now?"

He chuckles and gets The Beast started on the second try. She must not have heard the dump comment. "Before you waste away to nothing?" he asks, backing out. It's always surprised me, but The Beast does very well in reverse.

"Yes."

"Pizza?"

I start to get excited, but then I remember the diet. "No, something healthy," I say in a resigned voice.

"Donna…" he whines.

He doesn't want healthy food. That actually makes it a bit more appealing. "Come on Josh, it'll be good for you."

"Is this payback for me making you buy a car?"

"No, I haven't decided what your payback for that will be. But I assure you, it'll be worse than a healthy meal."

"You're an evil woman."

I wiggle my eyebrows at him. "Yes, I know."

He sighs heavily. "Fine, we can do healthy, but let's keep it quick so we can get back to test-driving."

"No…" I whine. We're pathetic whining losers.

"Yes, two more."

"Josh…" more whining.

He studies me for a minute. "We get pizza and I'll only make you test one more tonight."

This is intriguing. "We get pizza and I don't have to test anymore."

"Anymore tonight."

"Anymore this month."

"It's the second, Donna."

I smile big. "I know."

He looks like he might be pondering this, but then The Beast stalls. Stupid Beast. "No deal," he says, starting it again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Our little car quest has us in Virginia, where the dealerships are all close to each other in what Josh calls an auto mall. Anyway, since we're in the suburbs, we're eating at a chain restaurant, which is fine, it's just… different than what I'm used to. People in the lobby holding vibrating coasters, wait staff singing happy birthday to people, families with babies in high chairs and kids screaming and coloring and eating off of children's menus… I find myself staring at one such family, thinking of how easily that could be me. Had I not chosen this job, this man with whom I spend twenty hours a day; had I married FreeRide and squeezed out a few kids… that would be my life. Pawning over my children, frustrated at their behavior, on the verge of crying or screaming or spanking, and FreeRide, eyes glued to some football game that's on the television in the bar, ignoring both the children and me. Had I not saved myself from that life, had Josh not helped me, I could be that woman.

And it's not the kids that get me, it's not. I want children someday. I imagine them with blonde curly hair and big brown eyes and dimples that get me every time. I imagine them messy and clumsy and adorably demanding. I imagine them understanding the constitution before the age of five and watching baseball with their father. Not that I'm imagining any specific father…

"Ok, let's talk logically about this," their fath… Josh says, breaking me out of thought.

I tear my eyes away from the woman in the booth and look at him. "Hmm…"

"The car, what are we thinking so far?"

I take a deep breath and prepare to… are those rolls? When did the waiter bring us rolls? Why would he do that? Doesn't he know I'm on a diet? I can't have a roll! What the hell? "When did we get these?"

He chuckles at me. "I thought you were starving, you didn't even notice the guy bring the rolls?"

"I was…" I glance back towards pod-Donna and then back at the rolls. "What were you saying?"

"The car… what are we thinking?"

We? We clearly have different thoughts on the subject. "Right. I'm glad you brought that up."

"The Lexus, right?"

"What?"

"That's your favorite so far?" The rolls are calling to me. Have one, Donna. We're delicious.

My eyes widen. "The Lexus?"

He shrugs. "You've been going on and on about the color all day."

He has a point. "I did like the color." I also like eating and buying clothing and occasionally getting my hair cut. "But I have a better plan."

"You do?" he asks doubtfully.

Here I go. I've been practicing this in my head. "Yes. I was thinking that instead of buying a new car…"

Unsurprisingly, Josh cuts me off. "No."

I, however, am undeterred. "Instead of buying a new car…"

Once again I'm cut off. "Absolutely not."

I ignore him again. "That I'd have some repairs done to the The Beast."

"You're getting a new car."

I take a deep breath. The rolls smell really good; I should've breathed through my mouth. "What if I had the electrical problem fixed?"

He raises his eyebrows. "The electrical problem?"

"The turn signal and reverse lights."

He rubs his hand over his face. "Your reverse lights don't work?"

I bite my lip. Oops. I forgot he didn't know that. "And… I'll get the power steering fixed."

"No."

"Josh…"

"Donna..."

"I like my car," I pout.

He takes a deep breath. "So, you get the power steering and the electrical problem fixed. What about the starting problem, the stalling problem, the odometer problem and the clutch problem?"

"Josh," I say in that 'don't be absurd' voice of mine. "No car's perfect."

He nods slowly. "So, you'd like to throw a few thousand dollars into fixing the car from hell, but when you're done it'll still have almost three hundred thousand miles on it and be unsafe to drive. That's your plan?"

I nod with a big smile on my face. "Yes."

"You need a new plan."

"Josh…"

"Whining isn't going to work."

Our waiter comes to fill up my water and I hand him the basket of rolls. "Can you take these, please?"

Josh's mouth drops open. "Donna!" he screeches, pulling the basket of bread from Eric the waiter as if he hasn't eaten in a month. He stabs a roll with his fork while at the same time looking at me as though I've told him, oh I don't know… that he has to buy a new thirty thousand dollar car! The waiter looks from me to him and then back to me. I simply take the basket from Josh and give it back to him.

"He's going to think I don't let you eat," I say quietly once we're alone.

He starts mumbling. "I spend all day helping her shop for a car and what thanks do I get? She takes away the rolls."

I shake my head slightly. Who's he talking to? "I think you're going to make it. As hard as it might be."

"Well, yeah… now that I got one."

I fight the urge to eat Josh's roll and decide on a new plan. "How about this plan? I'll buy a used car."

He looks at me. "How used?"

"I don't know. I'll look around, check the paper, drive to CarMax in a few weeks." He shakes his head. "Next weekend. I'll drive to CarMax next weekend."

"Except that you're getting a new car today because you're never again driving the Freddie-mobile," he says, buttering his roll. Butter? Oh, it's melting and dripping off the roll…

"I've been doing fine in the Freddie-mobile."

"Yes," he says around a bite of what looks to me like the most amazing piece of bread ever baked. "For instance, two weeks ago, when it broke down at one o'clock in the morning and you called a tow truck instead of me," he's getting louder, "even though the tow truck driver could've been a psychopath," and louder, "who could've killed you and stashed your body with the other thirty women he's killed. Yeah Donna," and even louder, "you're doing great with the monster."

"The Beast," I mumble.

"Whatever," he shoots back.

"Josh, I was fine. I was with Cathy and…"

"Yeah, she's good protection to have," he says sarcastically.

"And you were star-gazing and I didn't want to interrupt you, so I called a professional." I try not to sound bitter, but he was out with the NASA whore. You remember.

"I was home from my business meeting," he says, stressing the word business, "by ?xml:namespace prefix st1 ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" / ten fifteen."

Yes! I knew it! I knew that hussy wouldn't succeed! Slut! Ha! "Well, I didn't know that," I say calmly while singing in my head, 'He didn't sleep with the NASA whore. He didn't sleep with the NASA whore.'

The waiter brings our food then, putting my grilled chicken with steamed broccoli and rice pilaf down in front of me and Josh's BBQ chicken and baked potato down in front of him. "Why did we have to get healthy food?" he asks himself.

I chuckle because there were burgers and fries and ribs on the menu that would've been plenty bad for him, but because I told him we had to eat healthy tonight, he ordered healthy. This makes me happy for reasons I don't really like to think about.

He looks up at me, a huge bite of chicken already in my mouth, and laughs. "Eat quickly. We're getting you a new car. Tonight."

"It's almost seven," I say around my food. "We won't get done tonight."

He puts a big glop of sour cream on his potato. I love sour cream. "We're only going to two more places."

I sigh and stab a piece of butter-less broccoli. "Where?"

"Audi and Volkswagen."

"What?"

"You heard me."

I think for a minute. "Can I get a bug?" Wouldn't that be fun? I could hit people all the time; and by people I mean Josh.

"No, you can't get a bug. You can get a Passat."

That's no fun. "What about a Chevy? What about a Ford?"

"Why do you keep asking me that? Audi and Volkswagen."

"You drive an Audi."

"Yes," he says, nodding.

"Josh, you're not being realistic about what I can afford."

"You're not being realistic about what you can afford. With interest rates this low, your payment won't be bad."

"But it'll be more than I can afford."

He puts down his fork. "Ok, what can you afford per month?"

"Ten dollars."

He chuckles at me. He can't help it; I'm very cute. "Ten dollars, I guess."

I nod and smile. "Yes."

"You can afford four-hundred dollars a month, at least."

"What?"

"I know what you make, Donna."

"But…"

"But what?"

"I'm saving money."

"Ahh… for what exactly?"

"I don't know. A cruise. A trip. A house. A wedding dress."

His eyes get big and he chokes on a bite of his potato. "A wedding dress?"

"I'm getting married!" I say sternly.

"What?" he nearly screams. Several people look over.

"Someday damn it! I am. I'm not going to be some old spinster with a hundred cats. I don't even like cats!"

"Oh. You meant… oh..." He puts his hand to his chest and takes deep breaths. He looks like he's about to pass out. Finally he looks back up at me. "Just for the record, you aren't like, engaged, right?"

My eyes widen. "No I'm not engaged!"

"Ok, just clearing that up," he says, still breathing deeply.

I stare at him for a second. "I'm just saying, what if I need money for something?"

"You do need the money for something. You need it for a car."

I pout for a few seconds and then take the last bite of my chicken. I'm not full. Then something occurs to me. I'm brilliant! "Can I keep The Beast too?"

"No."

My mouth drops open. "Just for fun?"

"Fine."

My eyes perk up. He should've mentioned that in the first place. "Really?" I ask, full of excitement.

"Yes, if you give me every set of keys to it, have the battery taken out and all four wheels taken off."

"But…"

"You, Donnatella Moss, are never driving The Beast again."

"But…"

"Never."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

We haven't even gotten out of The Beast at the Volkswagen dealership before shark comes up to us. He's literally waiting outside Josh's car door as we park. It's ridiculous I tell you, ridiculous. "These people need to be kept on leashes."

"Be nice."

I look over at him innocently. "I'm always nice."

He looks at me disbelievingly and gets out with my brochure.

When I get out, I look off towards the cars before looking over at… hello. The new shark is hot. Very hot. Extremely hot. As my mother would say, well put together. Don't ask me where she comes up with that stuff. I have no idea.

Hottie Garrett introduces himself to Josh and Josh introduces us the way he has all day. "Josh Lyman, this is Donna. We're interested in seeing some Passats." And he wonders why they all think we're married…

Hottie Garrett leads us to a row of cars that look similar to the other high priced cars I've looked at today. "So Garrett," I say, flashing him my most radiant smile. "Tell me why I want a Passat." Josh, oblivious to Garrett's beautifulness, ignores us and starts looking through windows.

"Look at this one, Donna," he says excitedly from a few cars over. "It's the dark silver you like."

I'm trying to flirt over here, do you mind? "Uh huh," I say distractedly.

Hottie Garrett goes over the high points of the car, the most important of those being that it's one of the cheapest ones we've seen today. This is a plus, and gives Garrett an edge over the Lexus and Acura.

"Well, I better take it out for a spin then," I say, leaning back against the car and smiling slyly at him. He openly checks me out before going inside to get the key, and I watch him go for a few seconds, thinking of my very favorite "Thelma and Louise" quote. 'Watch him go. I love to watch him go.' Brad Pitt has nothing on Hottie Garrett.

I turn back to Josh, who's looking over the sticker and has his trusty little piece of paper out of his pocket again, as well as the brochure. He's writing something down and comparing the two, and I can't help watching him. Because well, let's face it. Hottie Garrett has nothing on Josh Lyman.

I keep watching him for several seconds until he glances up at me and smiles. "Twenty-five two, Donna," he says wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's nearly in my price range," I say, smiling at him.

"Plus it's the color you like and has all the options you need."

"Oh does it?"

"And it's very high on the acceptable car list."

Why does Josh Lyman bring a smile and blush to my face that no one else can? "The car list that doesn't include Chevy orPontiac?"

"That's the one."

I shake my head, but his excitement, as usual, is contagious. "Not just high on the list, number one," I say to him.

He walks over and stands next to me. "Actually, the Audi's number one. I just didn't bother getting a brochure."

"Audi's number one?"

"Yep," he says, smiling.

"So we can have matching cars?" Wouldn't we look adorable in matching cars?

He looks down then and kicks an imaginary rock. "So you can have the best car."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

Shark comes out with the key a few minutes later and we take it for a spin. I've dropped the flirting; it's no fun if Josh isn't going to notice and get jealous, and he's being too sweet, if not a bit over-bearing, to try to make him jealous. Shark notices the change in my behavior right away, but seems to shake it off without much of a problem. I'm sure women are lined up around the corner for him.

We get in and Josh immediately starts messing around with the radio, the seats, and the heating/air controls. This is the first shark who's actually offered Josh the front seat, and that, along with his rugged good looks, makes him my favorite shark so far.

"How's it handling?" Josh asks me once we've been driving for a few minutes. He has a list of questions he asks during each test drive, and it always starts with this one.

"The Passat handles incredibly well," shark tells him from the back seat.

"Donna?" Josh asks me, not taking shark's word for it.

"I actually feel like the car's in control. Like I don't have much say in what's going on. Like I have to grip the steering wheel extra hard." Shark leans up, looking over my shoulder for whatever's wrong with his precious car, but Josh just shakes his head.

"She's just being a smart ass," he wisely says to shark. Then he goes back to his questions. "Are you comfortable? Are the controls in logical positions?"

The seats are uncomfortable as hell. How do I say that without offending shark? "They are indeed. The seat…"

"Yeah," he says, reading my mind. "It's a quiet ride."

Shark butts in again. "It has one of the quietest rides in its class. If you test drive a Nissan, you'll notice a huge difference."

"We did, and we do," I tell him while turning on to the interstate. "What kind of interest rates are you offering?"

"4.5 if you put 5 down and your credit qualifies."

Josh writes it down but looks at me. That's the worst interest rate we've come across all day.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

When we get back into The Beast, it's 9:02 and is therefore too late to go to the Audi dealership. As you can probably guess, I'm extremely upset about this.

"Too bad, I was really hoping to test drive the Audi tonight and make a final decision," I say in a plastic voice.

Josh looks at me. "Yes, I'm sure you're broken up about it," he says sarcastically.

"I am, truly."

"Well, we can at least narrow down the field a little. That'll make it easier for us tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Not tomorrow! Next week, next month, next administration, but not tomorrow!

He looks over at me with a large smile. "Yes, tomorrow. I wouldn't want you to have to wait too long, seeing as how upset you are."

"Great," I say in a voice that sounds anything but. "Oh…but you have senior staff tomorrow. Too bad. I was really hoping to get this done and drive around in my new car."

He chuckles at me. "Senior staff's at ten and that's my whole day. After that I can, and am willing to, sacrifice the day helping you again."

I squint my eyes at him. "That's very kind of you, but I couldn't ask you to do that," I say with a fake smile.

"You're so thoughtful. But really, I don't mind."

I try one more time. "But you must have a hundred things to do tomorrow."

"That's ok," he says cheerfully, "We'll just work late on Monday to make up for it."

"But…" now I'm whining.

His voice turns serious. "I told you, whining isn't going to work. How about this… we get dessert and come up with a short list. I've got to get the taste of health out of my mouth."

I look over at him. "How short?"

"One plus the Audi. Then tomorrow we can make a final decision."

"What if I need to sleep on it?"

"You don't."

I hate him. "Sliced apples and oranges?" He squishes up his face. Yeah, that's how good it sounded to me too.

"Cheesecake." Oh, how delicious does that sound?

"Frozen yogurt."

"Fine."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

I order a small fat free, low-carb chocolate yogurt. It tastes a little like cardboard. Josh, on the other hand, gets a strawberry vanilla twist with strawberry sauce, banana pieces, and pecans. Then he yells, "Donna!" when I steal a bite. What was he expecting?

We sit in a booth towards the back with our yogurt and the brochures. After three or four bites, the cardboard yogurt starts tasting better, which basically means I've lost taste buds.

"Ok," he says, spreading out the brochures. "I say we start by both eliminating two cars."

I steal another bite of his yogurt. Who the hell am I kidding, I'm eating cardboard. "Why do you still have a say, exactly?"

"Because."

"That's your answer?"

"Yes."

I shrug. "Fine."

"See? Isn't it better when you just do as I say?" he says while smirking.

I smile innocently at him. "I'm going to dump my yogurt on your head."

He ignores me and pulls the piece of paper from his back pocket, holding it up where I can't see it and looking at it. "I pick the Acura RSX and the Honda Civic."

I look down at the brochures. "But the Civic's the cheapest…"

He cuts me off. "You agreed to the terms."

"Joshua!"

He smirks again. "You shouldn't have agreed to the terms, Donnatella."

I stare at him for a few seconds before sticking my tongue out at him. "I hate you. I pick the Lexus and the Nissan."

"Donna, the Lexus is a good car. It's a solid choice. It has a great…"

I cut him off. "You agreed to the terms."

He smiles, impressed. Finally he nods. "Fine. That leaves the Acura TL, the Accord, and the Passat."

"The Passat's uncomfortable."

"Yes, plus I didn't like the salesman."

"What? But… Garrett was my favorite."

"Hence me not liking him." I know his Neanderthal behavior shouldn't be rewarded, but his statement makes me smile, which in turn makes him smile.

"So we're cutting the Passat?"

He looks at his list again. "It's number two."

"It hurts my back."

He nods. "Good point. It's cut. We're down to the Accord and the Acura."

"The Accord is ten thousand dollars cheaper."

"Yes, but the Acura is number three on the list."

"Where's the Accord?"

"Number four."

"It beat the Lexus?"

"Yep."

I look at him for a few seconds. "The Accord beat the Lexus? What is your list based on exactly?"

He shrugs. "Let's leave the list as is. You're gonna love the Audi anyway."

"You're pretty sure of yourself."

He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows at me. "I have good reason."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

By the time we get to my place, it's eleven. Josh pulls up to the curb but leaves the car running. "You want to come in?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. I have some paperwork to go over before senior staff," he says, pulling his car keys from his pocket and handing them to me.

"What's this?"

"My keys."

"Why?"

He sighs and runs his hand over his face. "Why do you think?"

I honestly have no idea. I just shrug and stare at him.

"What did I tell you about driving the Freddie-mobile?"

Ahh… "The Beast."

"Whatever."

"It's just one more day, Josh. A half a day really."

"Yes, but unfortunately…" he trails off.

"I know, I know," I say, opening the door. "I'm never driving The Beast again."

"Now you're getting into the spirit of things. I'll see you at the office."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I wake up early today and do my Richard Simmons' "Sweating to the Oldies" tape. I know, I know, it's practically ancient, but I don't have the time nor the money for a gym membership and Richard has always been helpful when I've needed to lose a few pounds. So get off my back.

Anyway, I exercise and then have a fairly decent breakfast of two scrambled egg whites and a cup of strawberries. It's not as good as a cinnamon crunch bagel with honey walnut cream cheese from Panera Bread would be, but sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do. I've got six days until the state dinner, I can't go soft now. But I've decided that next Sunday Josh is taking me out for pizza… or Chinese… or Mexican… or pasta… yes, pasta.

Once I shower and dress in appropriate Sunday work attire, which is really just a contradiction of terms, seeing as how I shouldn't have to work on Sunday, I grab Josh's keys and head outside. I walk up and down my block twice, not finding his Audi, and I start to get worried. I finally find it around the corner, mere seconds before freaking out that I got his car stolen.

The drive to work is lovely. I'd never say this in front of The Beast, but Josh's Audi is incredible. It's all leather inside, it's comfortable, it has a great stereo system, it… oh… it has these little hooks in the trunk that you can hang grocery bags on so they don't tip over on your way home from the grocery store and spill all over the trunk. I don't have proof, but it's pretty clear to me that a woman designed it.

I'm pretty much coming to terms with the fact that I'm buying a new car, if for no other reason than Josh's unreasonable fear of me driving The Beast. Last night, after he dropped me off and took my car home so I couldn't drive it, basically holding it hostage, I got online and checked out my savings and checking accounts. As much as I complain, they're both in fine shape. My student loan will be paid off in five months, and it seems that in the last year, I've put more than $2000 into repairing The Beast, not including oil changes and things like that. Deleting those two things alone will make a car payment doable.

I figure a few other small adjustments might have to be made. For instance, somewhere around our second year in office I got into the habit of rewarding myself every time I got a paycheck for not throwing myself at or killing Josh (these two things being interchangeable depending on his behavior.) Those little rewards started simple; a cheap pair of earrings, a throw pillow for my couch, a cd. I'm a bit ashamed to admit that those awards have increased in value to half-days at the Piaf Spa, new outfits, and things of that nature. So I'm thinking that's going to have to change, and Starbucks might have to become a weekly instead of daily stop, but I haven't had Starbucks in the last two weeks because of the diet from hell, and I seem to be coping. And I'm not going to add another percent to my 401K withholding like I told myself I'd do once I got a raise, but after all that, I'm going to be able to handle a car payment without much of an impact on daily life. I fear I could sob like a baby when saying goodbye to The Beast later today, which will in turn make Josh uncomfortable, but there's little I can do to stop that now and it's always fun to watch Josh squirm.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

I love Sundays in the West Wing. They're very quiet; the senior staff is usually here for part of the day, Charlie's here of course, and I'm usually here. Ginger, Bonnie, Cathy, Carol, and even Margaret rarely see a Sunday in the West Wing, but here I am, very busy playing FreeCell.

The phone rings while I'm on my fourth game, which is almost strange. The phone rarely rings on Sunday. Unless something big is going down, Josh comes in for senior staff, which lasts longer than usual (just between you and me, I think they're in there drinking or playing poker or something), we kind of get things ready for the start of the new week, including what bills we're going to focus on, which members of congress we want to meet with or boss around, things like that, and then we go out for a late lunch and end the day.

So anyway, the phone rings and I answer absently while trying to figure out what move to make next in this FreeCell game. "Josh Lyman's office…"

"Is Josh available?"

"I'm sorry, he's not. May I take a message and have him call you back in a few hours?" I ask, balancing the phone between my shoulder and chin while I reach for my message pad and a pen.

"There's no hurry. I was just following up on some information he asked me to research for him. He said he needed it right away, but I haven't heard back from him." Someone's researching for Josh other than me?

"Alright," I say hesitantly. Everything in the White House is top priority, but this can wait? "And who should I say called?"

"Oh, sorry," the man says chuckling a little. "Just let him knowJohn Murphy called."

Secretary Murphy? "I'll let him know, Sir. Are you sure you don't need him to call you back right away?"

"Not necessary. I just called to make sure he got the e-mail I sent him last week. It sounded important to him. Have him call me if he didn't receive it or if he has any questions about it."

"Absolutely, Sir." I hang up puzzled; it's odd that a cabinet member would contact Josh. They usually go through Leo.

Carol calls a few minutes later, interrupting my game once again, which is what I blame for having to play the same one seven times before beating it. Apparently CJ needs something right away, and thought to call Carol at home for it from the oval office. We assistants do this; watch out for each other. It's absolutely ridiculous that Carol should have to come into the office simply to pick up something off her desk and take it to CJ in the oval office, and although CJ's better than Toby, Leo, and Lord knows Josh, she's still helpless in that way that very powerful, busy, smart people are when it comes to the everyday things like changing light bulbs and thinking that probably just about anybody could find a simple envelope sitting on top of Carol's desk.

Anyway, Carol talks me through finding it and I take it to the oval office where apparently Josh has told everyone that I'm on the cusp of buying a new car, because Charlie congratulates me on it as I walk into the outer office and then kind of softly reminds me to get the tow package. I don't really know what a tow package is, but Charlie seems a little melancholy about it, so I just smile and tell him I'll make sure to do that. He nods and takes the envelope from me, walking into the oval office with it.

When I get back to my desk I figure I should call my grandmother. Every time I go home, which isn't often, I pick her up at her condo and take her for a drive in The Beast. We reminisce and talk about my job and her arthritis and how horrible my mother is for not letting her eat sugar. It's nice. Anyway, seeing as how The Beast has always been special between us, I feel like I should warn her of its imminent death. She seems to take the news fine, her exact words being, "It's about time, honey. I've had four cars since then," but I'm pretty sure she's just putting on a brave front. I promise to take her out for a drive in the new car when I'm home for Thanksgiving this fall.

Finally, due to complete boredom, I go into Josh's office to straighten up a little and put his few messages on his desk. On the top of the pile is the message from the Secretary of Transportation, and I figure it would make everyone's life easier if I just check to see if Josh received his e-mail.

I log into his account, which is always frustrating as hell. He says he doesn't have time, but I'm positive he doesn't know how to make folders in his Outlook file. This wouldn't be a problem if he got three or four e-mails a day, but he regularly gets fifty or more. Occasionally I take ten minutes out of my very busy schedule, which usually means forgoing FreeCell for the day, and make folders for him, sorting out the read e-mails in his inbox. But it never takes long for it to start piling up again.

I scroll through the 322 read messages for one from Secretary Murphy, and when I find it, I do a double take and the subject line: Safest Cars on the Market. So, obviously I'm going to open this e-mail. You really didn't need me to tell you that, right?

----------

To: jlymanwhitehouse.gov

From: jmurphyus.gov

Subject: Safest Cars on the Market

It was nice to hear from you, Josh. I hope the information below helps with whatever bill or project on which you're working.

I wish I could give you a list of American made hybrids, but I'm sorry to say that although American made cars are safe, they aren't yet as safe as foreign models.

Audi is not only the safest overall vehicle brand, the A4 is the absolute safest car on the market today and has been for the last nine years. If the buyer can afford it, it's the car to buy.

The Volkswagen Passat is the second safest car according to most sources, although some, including Consumer Reports, would put the Acura TL above that. In truth, all Acura models are extremely safe.

The Honda Accord ranks just below the Acura and is the safest car in its class. The Honda Civic did very well on crash tests as well, but research shows that compact and subcompact cars simply don't hold up under extreme pressure as well as a car that's a bit larger.

The Lexus ES330 and Nissan Maxima are also extremely safe, having received a 5 star crash rating in every possible category and passing every test Consumer Reports does as well. However, no other Lexus or Nissan models received this high a rating, which tells me that their companies aren't building the safest of cars across the board like the Audi, Acura and Honda companies are.

Please Josh, take all of this with a grain of salt. As you know, all vehicles must pass through rigorous testing before they can be sold in the US. There are very few cars that I would call unsafe. Still, you asked for a list of the absolute safest, no exceptions, and I can't in good conscience give you a false report.

If you need an official report, or if you have any questions, please let me know. I'd be happy to go over these results with you in greater detail.

John Murphy

----------

I read the e-mail three times before turning in Josh's chair to look out the window. I suspect I know what Josh's trusty little piece of paper is, and I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth even as a tear forms in the corner of my eye. It takes several minutes before anything other than 'Josh loves me' can filter through my mind, and even then I can do nothing but remind myself that I really already knew that.

Do we need to talk about that, you and I? Do you doubt that this new piece of evidence means he loves me? Perhaps you think he did it out of some sort of brotherly love. Let me assure you that the many, many, many times I've caught Josh staring at me, it was not a brotherly love stare. Or perhaps you think he would've done this for any friend buying a new car. Again, let me set the record straight. Last winter, CJ bought a new car. Josh went on and on saying she should get a Chevy Corvette, because it would be fun watching her try to get in and out of it. So… it's obvious really. Josh wants me. Loves me. Wants to marry me and have little blonde curly haired children with big brown eyes and dimples who are messy and clumsy and adorably demanding and understand the constitution before the age of five and like to watch baseball with him. Oh come on, you and I both knew I was imagining a specific father last night.

I'm still sitting here in partial awe imagining the world's cutest children, Emily and Jacob, when Josh comes back from senior staff. He startles me and I spin quickly around to face him. He's smiling, but he quickly frowns when he sees my glossy eyes and no doubt blotchy face. Damn alabaster skin. "What happened?" he demands more than asks.

I smile. I can't help it. The man standing in front of me loves me. He loves me! I want to shout it from the rooftops! I want to do a cartwheel! Again I remind myself that I already knew this. It's just that… well, I don't know. Maybe it's that the proof is nice to see. "Nothing," I say as I smile even bigger and stand up.

He takes a step towards me. "But you're…" he trails off, gesturing towards my face.

I tilt my head and look at him, my smile turning soft. "You need to reply to Secretary Murphy's e-mail. He called worried that you hadn't gotten the information."

His eyes widen and he looks like a deer caught in headlights. "See… I…"

I don't say anything; I just lean in and kiss him softly on the cheek before walking towards the door. I turn around and look at him when I reach it and he's looking at me in a very non-brotherly way. "Then return those phone calls and we're ready to go buy me a new car."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**?xml:namespace prefix o ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" / **

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Joshua!"

"Did you just stomp your foot there, Donnatella?"

"I hate you."

"You've mentioned that."

"Please…."

"No."

"But this could be my last time." The whining is really becoming pathetic.

"Face it; you've had your last time."

"But…"

"What did we discuss yesterday?"

"That you're a mean, mean man who's keeping my car hostage?"

"No, good try though."

"That you're a mean, mean man who's forcing me to buy a car I don't need?"

"No…"

"That you don't appreciate The Beast for the vintage piece of machinery she is?"

"Nope."

"That…"

"That you're never driving this piece of crap, falling apart, virginity stealing, gas guzzling, no odometer, no power steering, no turn signals, broken air-conditioner, seventeen year-old, ten dollar bucket of rust again."

"Oh… that."

"Yes, that."

"You found out about the air-conditioning, huh?"

He shakes his head and sighs. "I just guessed."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

So Josh doesn't let me drive to the dealership, even though I beg and plead and whine, but he loves me, so although I continue to give him a hard time about it the entire way there, I forgive him. As we pull into the parking lot, I remind him that I'm leaning towards the cheaper Accord, but he ignores me and says, "Let's get you a car!" He gets out and it takes twelve seconds for a shark to bombard us. Josh shakes them off and asks for Chet.

"Who's Chet?"

He claps his hands together once and bounces on the balls of his feet a little bit. He's very cute when he does that. Our kids are gonna do that some day. Focus, Donna. "Chet's our guy."

"Our guy?"

"He sold me my car."

"That was like four years ago. How do you know he's even still here?"

Just then, a man in his late fifties comes outside and Josh walks up to him. That's Chet? That family man in a nice suit with a clean, respectable haircut is Chet? Don't you picture Chet as the guy at the ocean resort with the bleached hair and dark tan who rents out the wave-runners and takes people out on scuba trips, and walks around all day wearing no shoes and no shirt? The guy at the beach bar later that night wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and old worn-in jeans that sit low on his hips, who knows everyone there, drinks tequila shots off women's stomachs, and goes home with one of the blondes from his scuba trip earlier that day? That's Chet, right? This guy? He's like… Steve. Or Bob. But not Chet.

"Josh, how are you?"

Josh shakes his hand. "I'm well, thanks. And you?"

"Good. It's nice to see you, I'm glad you made it."

They start walking towards cars and I stare after them for a few seconds before walking quickly to catch up with them.

"Sorry we didn't make it out yesterday. We got a little behind schedule. Donna insisted we eat."

My mouth drops open and I hit him on the shoulder. Chetshark just chuckles and turns to me. "It's nice to finally meet you, Donna. We're looking for an A4, huh?"

My eyes widen. It's nice to finally meet me? "Well, I'm in the market for a car," I say, shaking his hand.

He smiles and turns back to Josh. "I still don't have any used ones, Josh. I called around to eight other dealerships this past week, but you know how popular this model is. I have a couple demos, but to be honest, they aren't marked down that much."

Josh nods. "I figured as much. Thanks for checking." What's going on? Am I in the twilight zone?

Chetshark walks us up to a specific car and turns to me. "You need to keep the options limited to make this fit into your budget, right?"

I look over at Josh and then back to Chetshark. "Yes."

He nods. "This," he says, pointing to the car we're standing at, "Is the A4 2.0. It has cloth seats instead of leather, forgoes the upgraded audio package, the rear side airbags, the headlight washers, as well as a few other things, and comes in just under thirty thousand. I think I can get you a small rebate as well."

Under thirty thousand? For an Audi? What else does it forego? The engine? The hooks? "Do I still get the hooks in the trunk for the groceries?"

Josh cuts in. "She needs the airbags and any other safety options."

"Josh…"

He ignores me and talks to Chetshark. "She needs them."

"Right, sorry," Chetshark says, nodding at him as though he already knows this. He takes us over to another car. "This one has all the safety options and the upgraded stereo, and after rebates is going to be about thirty-two. Or we can always go inside and build one. It'd be ready for pick up in a few weeks."

"You've got the 1.9 percent financing for five years?"

Chetshark nods. "Yes, just like we discussed. But you have to put a thousand down for that."

Josh looks over at me with questioning eyes and I pause and stick my bottom lip out before nodding reluctantly. He smiles and looks at Chetshark. "Let's take it for a spin!" He's doing the bouncing thing again.

Chetshark takes down the VIN number and heads back inside. "You talked to Chet?" He shrugs and mumbles something. "What?"

"He's been keeping and eye out for a used one."

"For how long?" He ignores me and walks around looking at some other stickers. "Joshua?"

"Don't worry about it," he says, walking over to a convertible and stopping suddenly.

Chetshark comes back out then and walks up to Josh. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Is this an A4?" he asks in awe.

Chetshark nods. "It just came out last year. It's great, isn't it?"

Josh walks up to it and looks inside. "Nice," he says in almost a whisper.

"Yeah." He opens the door and Josh sits down in the driver's seat.

Hello… car shopper right over here. "Can I get that in my price range?" How cool would a convertible be? Oh yeah.

Chetshark looks over at me. "These start about forty."

"So, no."

"You want to take it out?" he asks Josh, who's off in his own world of Audi-ism, pulling down the visor, messing with the seat, opening the glove compartment, arranging the rearview mirror, things like that.

"Huh?" He asks, looking up at Chetshark. "Nah. We gotta…" he trails off and points to me.

Chetshark nods and opens the door for him and we all walk over to the car I'm going to be driving. It's white, not dark silver, but seeing as the dark silver one next to it has a sticker price of thirty-nine five, I'm just gonna go with white. Chetshark opens the door for me and then gets into the back seat, giving Josh the front seat. We pull out and start driving, and I feel like I'm driving Josh's car. "So Donna, I was happy to hear you're ready to buy."

"It's really more of a case of Josh being ready for me to buy," I deadpan.

"How's it handling?" Josh asks me.

"Great." Awesome, amazing, perfect. Maybe if I moved out of my apartment and lived in it I could afford it. Think about it… I could get a PO Box for mail, a gym membership for hygiene, drop my land line and use cell only, and start going to the laundromat. Granted, it'd be hard to have people over, and I'd have to give up Alias, but look at the flip side; I could read more.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to find you a used one. I know you've been hoping for one," Chetshark says to me.

I raise my eyebrows. I have been? I look at Josh but he ignores me and continues with his questions. "Are you comfortable? How about the controls?"

"It's very nice, Josh. It's like driving your car." I focus on Chetshark again. "I didn't realize you were helping Josh find a used one," I say cryptically.

Josh answers before Chetshark has a chance to. "He's just been keeping an eye out. Chet, how different is this from the one I have?" Hmm… does it seem to you that Josh doesn't want Chetshark and me discussing this used car search, or is it just me? Maybe I'm imagining it.

"Well you have the 3.0, so you have more horse power and more options, plus you got it fully loaded. But as far as the overall car, it hasn't changed much in the last four years. A few cosmetic things here and there, there's more room in the trunk, the speakers are a newer model, that's about it."

"How often do you get used ones in?" Because really, if I could get a used one…

"She doesn't have much of a trade-in," Josh says out of nowhere. Ok, I'm not imagining it, he's definitely trying to avoid the used car discussion.

Chetshark laughs a little, which The Beast and I don't appreciate. "I noticed. As far as used ones, if we haven't gotten one in the last year, do you really want to keep waiting?"

A year? I jerk my head to Josh, who's wincing and looks like he's in pain.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

We pull back into the lot about twenty minutes later and Chetshark starts to take us inside. Every other time this has happened, Josh has stepped forward and thanked the shark for their time, telling him or her that we're still considering our options but that we'll be making a decision this weekend and we'll let them know if we're interested. This time, he starts following Chetshark into the building. "Uh…" What's going on?

Josh turns back to me. "What?"

"I…" I point towards The Beast. What the hell's happening?

"Come on. Let's get you a car," he says, nodding towards the building with the smile of a ten year-old. No fair bringing out the dimples.

"But…" I'm panicking. I can't breathe. Help.

He turns to Chetshark. "Can we have just a minute?"

Chetshark nods. "I'm going to return a call and I'll be right back."

"Thanks." Josh waits until he's gone to say anything. "What?"

"Josh, I can't afford this car," I say quietly.

"You don't know that."

"I can do the math. I know the Accord's nine thousand dollars cheaper!" I scream in a whisper sort of way.

"But this is the safest car made."

"I'm aware of that, but the Accord's safe too. The e-mail said so."

"You read it?" he nearly screeches.

I roll my eyes. "Have you ever met me? Of course I read it."

He takes a deep breath and looks down at the ground before looking up at me. "I thought we'd decided on this one."

I stare at him for a second. "I don't know what led you to that conclusion, seeing as how a half hour ago I told you I was leaning towards the Accord."

"But this is better. You loved this car, Donna."

I nod. "I did. But…"

"Let's just see what kind of payments he can offer you. He knows you're on a budget."

I take a deep breath, ready to tell him no. It's my checkbook, it's my life, it's my decision. Then I see his puppy dog eyes begging me. "Fine, but if the payments are too high, I'm getting the Accord." His dimples come out and he starts bouncing again. "I mean it Josh. I'm not going to bankrupt myself for a car. "

"Uh huh," he says, smile growing. He's not listening to me at all.

"We're gonna talk about Chet and the used car search later, by the way."

His eyes get big and the bouncing stops. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"A year?"

"He was exaggerating," he says, his voice getting really high on exaggerating.

"By what? Eleven and a half months?"

He shrugs. "Something like that."

I shake my head in mock frustration and bite my lip to keep the 'Josh loves me' smile from forming. We start walking around the cars, waiting for Chetshark, who's standing over by The Beast on the phone. You know why he returned the call there, don't you? So we can't sneak out on him. How sleazy! Still, I find it hard to fault the man who spent a year keeping an eye out for a used car for me, especially considering that in about fifteen minutes I'm leaving to go to the Honda dealership down the road.

We come to the convertible again and Josh starts drooling. He circles it, one eyebrow up, pausing when he comes to the sticker on the window. He gets inside again and I get in the passenger seat. "It's nice," I say to him.

"Uh huh," he says, ignoring me completely. I think he's in love.

We sit there waiting while Josh pretends to drive the convertible. I'm ok with that as long as he doesn't start with the car noises. One "broom" or tire screech sound and I'm having him committed.

Chetshark comes back a few minutes later, chuckling at him. "It's hard to resist, isn't it?"

Josh doesn't really register Chetshark there for a few seconds, then he looks up at him. "It's… nice."

Chetshark nods. "You sure you don't want to take it out?"

"Yeah, I'm…" then he stops talking and tilts his head to the side. A second later, he looks over at me and smiles wickedly. "Sure, why not?"


	10. Chapter 10

**?xml:namespace prefix o ns "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" / **

**Chapter 10**

Chetshark, with a twinkle in his eye and a sale in his sights, gets the key and we all go out in the convertible. I, having secretly decided on the Accord, like there was ever any doubt, decide it's my turn to have fun and begin grilling Josh immediately. "How's it handling?" I ask in a teasing voice.

"Shh…" he says almost reverently. It's kind of cute to see him like this. I mean, really, I'm witnessing the midlife crisis of Joshua Lyman. I have to admit, he's handling it better than I ever would've thought. A joy ride in an expensive car? It sure beats round two with Amy Gardner. Oh wait; we had that a few months ago, didn't we? Never mind.

"Are you comfortable? What about the controls?" And what about this wind in my hair? I'm going to be one big tangle when we're done here. Have you seen "Bridget Jones' Diary?" You remember the convertible scene…

"Uh huh," he says in a way that makes me absolutely positive he's not listening to me. Of course, that's really nothing new.

After a few more minutes of questions he either grunts out answers to or doesn't answer at all, I decide Josh isn't any fun and turn to Chetshark while holding my hair back. What I'd give for a scarf or hell, even a rubber band at this point. "Admit it, Chetshar…" Oops, almost slipped. "Chet. This was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

He's sitting in the backseat, his head up towards the sky and his eyes closed, apparently also going through a midlife crisis, but he sits up and looks at me, chuckling. "You've figured me out. Get Josh to bring his girlfriend in and talk him into a car too. Why settle for one sale when I can get them both?"

My eyes widen. "We're uh…" I look over to Josh for help, but he's off in his own world of Audi-ism. "We're not…" I usually handle this better, I've heard it numerous times over the last six years, but after this morning's e-mail proof, I find it harder. "We uh… work together," I finally choke out.

We pull up to a red light then and Chetshark ignores my babbling and turns to Josh. Who can blame him? I sound like an idiot. "What do you think, Josh?"

Josh doesn't answer him and I look over at him. Oh… he's not in awe, he's strategizing. "Josh…"

He remains quiet, his brow furrowed and his eyes squinted a little bit. I've seen him like this in his office before, and while this look could be mistaken for indigestion or constipation, something either brilliant or disastrous always comes soon after. The light turns green and he drives again, still paying no attention to us whatsoever. The silence is too much, so I tease Chetshark again. "So you planted this next to the one you're trying to sell me, knowing he'd become enamored, right?"

"Josh obviously has good taste," he says, nodding towards me. "Of course he'd notice this car." Well, that's true. I am quite the catch.

"What's Donna's trade worth?" Josh asks him out of the blue.

Chetshark and I both jerk our heads in his direction. "Little to nothing," he answers. "She should donate it to charity for the tax write-off. That's her best bet."

"I can't imagine charity wanting it," Josh says to him. My bottom lip juts out and I hit Josh in the arm; they're not being very nice.

Chetshark chuckles. "I have a list of schools and churches that hold car smashing fundraisers."

"What?" I nearly scream!

He looks over at me. "They raise money by selling tickets. Your tickets give you a couple swings at the car with a baseball bat or whatnot."

"Absolutely not!"

"Donna…" Josh says quietly.

"No! No way!"

Josh looks at me for a few seconds and then rolls his eyes. "What else have you got?" he asks Chetshark in a resigned voice.

He takes a deep breath. "You might be able to find an auto-diesel college who'll buy it for a few hundred bucks if it has enough things wrong with it to make fixing it worth their while."

"Oh, it's got plenty," Josh says before glancing over at me with raised eyebrows, but I've decided I hate Chetshark. "I'm buying the Accord," I say stubbornly as I turn and look out the window defiantly. When did I become the child and Josh the adult?

Josh stops at another light. "You are absolutely not buying the Accord. You're either buying the new Audi or you're buying mine."

This throws me for a loop the size of a roller coaster at GreatAmerica and I whip my head around to him. "Excuse me?"

He shrugs but keeps his eyes on the road. "I'll buy this, you buy mine."

I look over at the sticker price on the window and nearly pass out. "Don't be ridiculous," I scoff. "You're not really buying this car; you're just having a midlife crisis joy ride." He's not buying this car. He just needs to let out a little… I don't know, testosterone or male goo or something. Then he'll come to his senses and realize that he has an awesome car at home that's in mint condition and is that awesome dark silver color that I love.

He raises an eyebrow at me and I start to get that sick feeling I get when Josh goes off and does something crazy that I fear will get him fired and leave me working for Toby. What? That's what would… fine. Fine! I'd leave with him, happy now?

"I'll tell you what," Chetshark says to him. "You buy this and trade in yours, and I'll sell it to Donna for the trade-in amount plus the title transfer. I won't even pull a profit."

I glance back to the Beast killer before focusing on Josh and studying him for a minute. I see now that he's completely serious. This makes me a bit queasy. "We're not discussing this in front of the shark," I tell him quietly. And I'm not even sorry I called him shark to his face. Talking about The Beast like that. He's lucky I didn't whack him with my purse.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

I spend the rest of the test drive listening to Josh and Chetshark talk about the convertible while quietly trying to decide if I want to kill Josh or throw him on the nearest hard surface and have my way with him. Admittedly, this isn't the first time I've had this dilemma. I glance over at him occasionally, but he remains calm. He's wearing one of his victory smiles, which makes him unbelievably hot, but I vow not to let that influence my decision. If only he weren't wearing jeans…

When we get back to the dealership, Chetshark offers to leave us alone so we can have what he no doubt assumes is a lover's spat. Little does he know it's one of our many pre-lovers spats. I wonder, will we spat like this once we actually are lovers? But then the word 'lovers' combined with Josh distracts me from such thoughts and I can't really remember what I was wondering in the first place.

I wait until we're relatively alone before looking over at him and crossing my arms over my chest. His reply is to smirk at me. "Now Donnatella…" he starts calmly.

"Are you insane?" I nearly scream.

He remains calm. "Not insane, Donna. Brilliant, but not insane."

I remain… not so calm. "Josh, do you know what that car costs?"

"I do recall looking at the sticker price, not that I'll pay that much."

"Josh!"

"I know what I can afford, Donna."

I take a deep breath. "Can you stand there and tell me you're not buying this car to keep me from buying the Accord?"

He looks straight at me. "I like the car. I, in fact, love the car."

"That wasn't the question!"

He turns around and then quickly turns back to me, gesturing like a crazy man. "This is a win-win situation! Why can't you see that this is a win-win situation?"

"Because it's not! This is you buying a car so I don't buy the fourth safest car on the market! You are not winning in this situation!"

"Donna!" he screeches, which almost makes me smile. Almost. "Do you see that car? It's awesome!"

I start to speak but he puts his hand up to my mouth and points over to the car. I look at it reluctantly and he comes to stand behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders as I look at it. It is awesome, the feel of his hands on… I mean the car. It's light silver instead of dark silver, but it works with the black top. It's all leather inside and has about a hundred other options listed on the tag. It also costs more than I made last year.

We stand there like that for several seconds, staring at the car. Finally, he whispers in my ear, "I'm getting the car, Donna." I know he's talking about a car, but that was extremely sexual and I admit, to you only, to being somewhat turned on right now.

I nod slowly, coming to terms with it. Then it dawns on me; there's about to be a used Audi on the market. Have I mentioned my love for Josh's car? I turn around and scoff as if letting a five year-old have their way. "Fine, Joshua. You can have your new toy."

He smiles, his dimples out, and it's worth mentioning, his hands still on my shoulders. "Thank you. Now, about you…"

I raise my eyebrows, giving an innocent look. "Yes?"

"I think you should buy my car."

I smile. "I might just do that." After I see what they're going to give him for trade-in. Let's be realistic. I still might not be able to afford it.

"Good."

"In fact, we should go get it so you can trade it in."

He makes a 'nah' face and shakes his head. "I'm not trading it in; I'll just sell it to you direct."

"But…" that won't work. I can't buy it outright. "If I buy it from the dealership I can take out a loan."

"You won't need a loan," he says, grinning and hopping again on the balls of his feet, his dimples out and his eyes mischievous. "I'm selling it cheap."

My eyes widen and I cross my arms over my chest again. I'm not sure what it is about this position that makes me feel bossy, but I use it a lot when talking to him. "Joshua, you are not taking a loss on your own car. I'll buy it for the trade-in amount." If I can afford it. I don't tell him that.

He crosses his arms over his chest then and gets right up in my face. "Well I'm not trading it in," he says stubbornly. "So you're going to have to buy it from me for my asking price."

It gets quiet while we glare at each other, each waiting for the other to back down. I finally scream through gritted teeth and ask. "And what exactly is your asking price?"

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Ten dollars, non-negotiable."

"Ten dollars?" I nearly scream.

"Non-negotiable," he reminds me with a grin. "I can't take a penny less. Now let's go look at my new car." He casually walks away from me to the convertible a few feet from us, opens the door and pops the trunk as if he didn't just… did he just...


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

I'm still standing here in shock as Josh walks from the driver's side door to the trunk he just popped as if nothing's happened. I believe he just said he was selling me his very nice, very expensive car for ten dollars. I must've misunderstood something, right? I mean… right? "Joshua," I say calmly, walking over to him.

He opens the trunk and starts rooting around, careful not to look at me. "Look at the trunk. It's… spacious," he says. Ok, if that's not misdirection, I don't know what is. And I know misdirection. I can misdirect with the best of them.

I stand next to him. "Yes, it's a very nice trunk," I say, placating him. "Now, about…"

"We're done talking about the other thing," he cuts in while pulling up the cover for the spare tire.

"We are most certainly not done talking about…"

"So, how's it going over here?" Chetshark the Beast killer asks, walking up to us. Josh smirks at me and then turns to him.

"Well Chet, there's good news and bad news."

Chetshark smiles. "You're interested in this car. Donna's not interested in the other."

Josh nods. "Plus, you have to unload The Beast for us."

"No!" I shriek.

"Donna…" he says, giving me one of his looks.

I start pouting. "I just don't think you need to use words like 'unload'. Can we show a little respect, please?"

Josh stares at me for a few seconds like he can't believe I'm serious with this statement. I go up to a level two pout and he caves. "Certainly." He turns back to Chetshark. "We need to discuss you… disposing of The Beast." He turns back to me. "Better?"

"Barely," I mumble.

"The Beast?" Chetshark asks with wide eyes.

"Donna's car."

He nods and glances back at her. "Ahh… good name." Then he looks back at us. "And she'll be buying your trade-in?"

"Yes." I say quickly.

"No," Josh says calmly. "I'll be selling it to her myself."

Chetshark seems unsurprised by this turn of events. "Fine, but I can't take her car in as a trade in if she doesn't by a car from me."

"Right…" Josh says slowly, squishing up his face.

"Oh, that's a shame," I say cheerfully. "I guess I'll have to hold on to her then. Don't worry," I say to Chetshark, carefully avoiding Josh's eyes. "I can find some way of… taking care of her."

"Absolutely not," Josh says, causing me to look up at him and see the 'not in a million years' look he likes to give me. It's the same look I got when I asked to drive today. He squints his eyes for a second and then pulls a dime out of his pocket and hands it to me. I stare at it confused as he turns back to Chetshark. "I just bought it from her."

Chetshark nods. "Ok."

"What?" I nearly scream. I just sold The Beast for a dime? That can't be right.

Chetshark and Josh start for the building. "But…" I say weakly and quietly to myself as I stand here like an idiot.

Josh turns back to me when they reach the door and nods towards The Beast. "Get anything you want out of it."

This breaks me out of my reverie and I see an opportunity for escape. "I need the key."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "So you can take it on one more joy ride? No. It's unlocked."

I stick my tongue out at him. "You're not a nice person."

He smirks at me. "I never claimed to be."

He has a valid point. "But this is my last time ever," I say, tilting my head and really bringing on the pout, we're talking level three, pushing level four.

He watches me for a second as I wait for his resolve to crumble. It always crumbles. "That's not working today," he says with a grin before disappearing inside the building. What?

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

So Josh and Chetshark are working out the details of the sale, including the… disposal… of The Beast. I watch them go inside and then quietly walk up to her and get into the driver's seat.

"Hey Beastie," I say quietly. She doesn't answer. Sometimes when she's running and I talk to her, she coughs or revs her engine back in acknowledgement, but today she's quiet.

"See… the thing is…" I start fiddling with the steering wheel, looking for the words to make her understand.

"The thing is, Beastie, that vehicles are only meant to last for so long, and then they…" get tossed to the wayside as if they never mattered. As if they're nothing but metal. As if they weren't there with you when you lost your virginity. As if they don't know your every secret and your every rant, not to mention every time you bumped into a car and drove away. "Retire," I say, trying to put on a brave face for her.

"And you…well, you've done such a good job over the years," my voice starts shaking. "That it's your turn to retire."

"And it's gonna be great. They're gonna take you to a…" dump, where they're going to flatten your body with no regards to what it once was and then throw it on top of a pile of other flattened out dead cars. "To a retirement village, and there'll be lots of other retired cars there and…"

I take a deep breath. "You're gonna love it there. It'll be peaceful. No more driving in the snow. No more traffic jams and other cars honking at you when you stall. No more overheating. No more people getting under your hood and making you feel cheap and violated."

"It's gonna be great, Beastie. And…and maybe I can come visit sometimes. To see how you are. I could bring some soap and water and Armor All and give you a good wash and tell you all kinds of administration secrets. Just the two of us, won't that be fun?"

I hear the passenger door open then and Josh starts rooting around the glove compartment. "I need you to sign the title over…." He stops suddenly. "What's wrong?"

I look over at him and try to smile. "Nothing," I say in a tiny voice.

"Why are you crying?" he asks in a worried voice.

My lip starts trembling then. "I'm not," I choke out.

His eyes are wide and he's looking at me strangely. Then he must figure it out because he's suddenly trying to hold back a smile. "Are you…"

"Leave me alone," I sob.

He grabs the title and shuts the door, walking over to my side with his head down and no doubt a huge smile on his face. He gets to my door and opens it. "Come on," he says gently, and I can tell he's about to lose it.

I shake my head and grip the steering wheel harder.

"Donna," he says softly, taking my closest hand and pulling on me gently. "Come here." I've got to give him this; he's trying his very hardest not to laugh at me.

I reluctantly let him pull me out of The Beast and into his arms where I continue crying on his shoulder. "The Beast and I have had some really good times."

"I'm sure you have." We stand there like that for a minute while I calm down, then I pull back a little and look at him. "You ok?" he asks softly.

"You're gonna laugh at me about this aren't you?"

"Not for a few days, at least."

I stick my bottom lip out. "Ok."

"Did you get your stuff?"

I shake my head pitifully. "Not yet."

"Ok… what do you want out of it?"

I take a deep shaky breath. "My cell phone charger and my tapes."

"Tapes?"

"She doesn't have…" I start sobbing again. "A cd player."

"Of course she doesn't." He gets them out. "What else?"

"My jumper cables."

He nods and tries to pop the trunk. It doesn't have a popper. "How…"

"You gotta… use… the key."

He sighs and walks around to the trunk, getting out my jumper cables and bringing them around to me. "Anything else?" he asks softly.

I nod. "Can I have the door handle?"

"The door handle?"

"As a memento?"

"How the hell am I…"

"It falls off sometimes. Just twist it."

"Of course it does," he mumbles, twisting off the door handle and giving it to me. I hug it close to my chest.

"And the gear…"

He cuts me off. "No more mementos." I stick out my bottom lip and he softens his voice. "It's better this way. Just let her go."

I nod. He looks at me for a second and shuts the door one last time. I put my hand on the window. "Bye Beastie," I whisper, crying again.

He pulls me to his chest again and holds me while I cry. I think Chetshark comes outside, because I hear him whisper that he'll be right back, but I don't turn around to see who he's talking to. Finally I stand up straight.

"You gonna be ok?"

I bite my lip and nod. "I think so."

"Why don't you come inside and use the restroom to wash your face?"

I look over at The Beast. "Can't I…"

"Just let her go, Donna," he says softly.

I nod again and we go inside to Chetshark's office. Josh hands me a pen and it takes me a minute to muster the courage, but finally I sign the title over to him, then leave to find a restroom.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 (The Final Chapter)**

**A/N: Thanks for reading and for the great feedback. I appreciate it. If you liked this, check out some of my other comedies, they're all along the same quirkly lines.**

Sunday night, after a dinner that consisted of a dry pork chop, green beans with no butter or salt, and an argument with Josh over the price of my new car, I vow to make him see things my way. So, Monday morning I get to work early to do some research. He, on the other hand, comes strutting in a half hour late with Ed and Larry in tow, talking about the wonder-car convertible. He drops his jacket and backpack in his office and hustles towards Leo's office for senior staff while I walk with him.

"You're running a bit late today."

"I was with Ed and Larry. They love my car."

"Ahh… men talk."

"Yes. Plus, I have the coolest car in the world and they know it."

I ignore him and hand him a Kelly Blue Book printout I pulled from the internet. "Twenty-two five." That's what Kelly, whoever Kelly is, says he should get for his Audi in a private party sale.

He looks at it and hands it back to me. "I thought we'd finished this discussion."

"Yet I've repeatedly told you that we haven't."

"Ten dollars, Donna. That's the price."

"Twenty-two five, Joshua. That's the price."

"You just think that's the price. The actual price is ten dollars. I should know. It's my car and therefore my price to make."

"I hate you."

"I know." I stop as he walks into Leo's office chuckling at me.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

I realize my mistake Monday afternoon. Josh would never sell his car outright. He doesn't have the time. So I do some more research and on Tuesday morning I walk into his office and put another printout down on his desk. "Nineteen five," I say while tapping it. That's what Kelly, Les Kelly, used car salesman in the early 1900's and founder of Kelly Blue Book, says he would've gotten if he'd traded it in.

He glances at it and then back at the report in his hands. "Ten dollars," he says without looking at me.

"Nineteen five."

"Ten dollars."

"Nineteen five!"

"Ten dollars." He finally looks up smirks. "And you're eventually going to have to pay me, Donnatella. You've had it for two days. I need that money. I don't have cash for lunch."

I huff and cross my hands over my chest. "You'll get paid when we agree on a price."

I turn around to leave and he shouts, "I want my ten dollars!" as I walk out of his office.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

Wednesday my car disappears, along with Josh, at one o'clock. Imagine my surprise when I try to run an errand at 1:15 and my car isn't there. Luckily, I have Josh's spare key to the new car, so I take it. With the top down, thank you very much. Anyway, when he returns at two-thirty, I follow him into his office. "You stole my car."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You haven't paid for it yet. Technically, it's still mine."

What's he pulling here? "That's because you're being ridiculous."

He ignores me. "If you need to pay me in installments, we can work it out. A dollar a week for the next ten weeks, something like that."

I scream through gritted teeth and head for the door while he sits down behind his desk. When I get there, I remember that he stole my car and turn back to him. "Where'd you go, anyway?"

He picks up the Fair Housing Report and starts leafing through it. "It needed an oil change and a tune-up," he says casually.

My eyes nearly bug out of my head. "What?"

He looks up at me with a look of superiority. "You want me to stop repairing it? Buy it."

I stare at him dumfounded for a few seconds. Damn, that was good. "You're not as clever as you think you are," I say, which is obviously a complete lie, because that was unbelievably clever.

He wiggles his eyebrows and smiles at me. "We'll see."

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

Thursday I re-group and bring him a bagel for breakfast, which, considering that I can't have a bagel and instead had two scrambled egg whites and a piece of low-carb toast for breakfast, is very nice of me. Have you ever had low-carb bread? It's worse than the low-carb frozen yogurt from Saturday. I'm just saying, one more day until this damn state dinner, and I'm not sure I'll make it.

I hand him the bag as he walks past my desk and he looks at me strangely. "What's this?"

I smile innocently. "Look and see."

He cautiously looks in the bag as though I've planted a bomb or something in it. Then he looks back at me. "This doesn't count towards your balance."

"My balance?"

He pulls the bagel out. "The ten dollars you owe me."

"How about we compromise?"

"How about you pay up?"

I ignore him and continue. "I was thinking fifteen thousand? That's a good round number. And I can..."

"Pay me ten dollars?" he asks, cutting me off.

"No. Pay you five thousand a year for the next three years. That way I won't even have to take out a loan. That's a great deal for me."

"Or…" he trails off while chewing a piece of his bagel. "You can pull ten dollars out of your purse and give it to me right now, thus ending the great car debate."

"I like my idea better."

He ignores me and heads towards CJ's office with the bagel. My car disappears at lunch again, and when I leave for the day, there's a receipt for four new tires and an alignment sitting on my passenger seat.

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

Friday morning I walk into his office and hand him a check, a determined look on my face. He smiles up at me and nods. "It's about…" he stops as he looks at it and sees that it's for $417.00.

"$417.00 a month. That's five thousand a year," I say cheerfully.

He rips the check into tiny pieces and hands it to me, then stands up and rolls down his sleeves. I like them rolled up better, but I don't say that out loud. He leans in close to me and says, "Ten dollars."

I play innocent. "I thought we'd decided on the fifteen thousand thing yesterday."

"I distinctly remember not deciding on that at all."

I stomp my foot. "Joshua!"

"I'm on the hill this afternoon, but if I still own it tomorrow, it's getting detailed," he says before walking out the door to go to senior staff. He's blackmailing me?

**zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz**

Friday evening, I walk into his office in my dress, which fits fabulously by the way. His bowtie's hanging around his neck and he's on the phone with someone. When he looks up at me, his eyes widen and travel down my body while his mouth hangs opens. Ok, so the dieting thing was totally worth it. But I'm still having pasta tomorrow.

When he gets off the phone, he turns towards me and without a word about it, I start tying his tie. "You look nice," he says, going for casual but missing by a mile.

I tilt my head and smile my not-quite-sexy-but-not-quite-not-sexy smile. "Thank you."

He clears his throat. "Uhh… everything's ok with the car?"

"It's wonderful, thank you. Of course… if we can't come to an agreement on the price, I might have to strangle you. But the car and I will be fine after that." I finish the bowtie but continue adjusting it, my way of staying as close as possible for as long as possible. I wonder if he knows that.

He smirks at me. "That's nice to know."

I take a deep breath and drop my hands. "Joshua…"

He groans and runs a hand over his face. "Haven't we already been through a round of this today?"

"I can afford to buy my own car."

"I have no doubts."

"As much as I appreciate it," I say slowly. "It's not fair to you."

"You're in a safe, reliable car. That's fair to me. Why do we have to make such a big deal of this?" he shouts.

"Because it is a big deal. Because it's not your job to take care of me."

"Newsflash Donna. I want to take care of you!" he yells, his eyes widening even as the words leave his mouth, as if he can't believe they're escaping after all this time. Still, I think they're only half as wide as my own. The room becomes eerily quiet as we stare at each other, neither of us able to move, our eyes locked and our breathing loud in the silent room. He closes his eyes for a brief second, and then he looks pleadingly at me. "Please let me do this," he says quietly in a voice I don't recognize.

The staring continues, as does the silence. It finally becomes too much; if I don't leave the room, I'm going to shove him against his desk and do naughty, naughty things to him. Being the all intelligent woman I am, I turn and walk out without a word. It doesn't occur to me that Josh, or anyone else in the world, might consider this rejection until I walk back into his office a minute later and see that he looks utterly destroyed. Oh shit.

His eyes won't meet mine as I walk towards him again. I get even closer than I was before and he looks away towards the wall. My heart's beating about a million miles an hour and I wonder if he can hear it as well as I can hear the harsh breaths he's taking. I clear my throat but he doesn't budge. Way to take a hint there, Josh.

"Ten dollars," I say quietly.

This gets his attention and he looks back at me. I smile, and keeping my eyes locked on his, reach for his hand, pulling it up between us. He looks down as I put the ten dollar bill I just got from my desk into his palm and then close his hand around it with my own hand.

We stare at our hands for a moment longer until the silence becomes too much and he speaks. "So… I win?"

I look up and see him grinning, and I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed but helpless to stop the smile spreading across my face. "Yes, Joshua, you win. You can take a nineteen thousand dollar loss on your car."

His grin widens. "That's all I ask."

I shake my head. "You're impossible."

"Adorable, not impossible."

"You think so, huh?"

"That's what I've been told."

"I think someone's been lying to you." I reach up and adjust his bowtie again. It's unnecessary, but things have been said that lead me to believe its ok. When I'm done with the imaginary adjusting, I put my palms on his chest for just a second before dropping them again. "We need to get down to the ballroom."

He nods and I turn to leave just as he catches my hand with his, pulling me back around to face him. I look at him questioningly and he gives me his 'don't kill me, I'm too cute' smile that gets me nearly every time. Unless it's because he pissed off someone he's not supposed to piss off. And especially if that person is CJ. Anyway... it usually gets me and this is no exception. "Maybe we should…" he trails off and my mind immediately begins wandering. Kiss? Yes. Have sex against the desk? Yes. Go to the state dinner? Oh yeah, forgot about that.

"We should what?" I ask with a shy smile.

He shrugs a little. "You know… take us out for a test drive." Ok, so that's the last way I was expecting to hear it be said, and I try to hold back a laugh, I really do, but… come on. He goes from cautiously optimistic to indignant in the span of an instant. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry, but…" still laughing here. "You're bringing out the clichés? Now?"

"At least I'm bringing it up," he screeches. "You were just going to walk out of here after…" he starts gesturing around the room and I find it even harder not to laugh.

"After what?" I ask innocently.

He stares at me. "You know damn well what!"

"Well I couldn't bring it up."

This answer shocks him. "Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm the woman." Duh.

"And …"

"And I need to be wooed."

His eyebrows reach his hairline. "By me?" he screeches.

I chuckle at him. "Of course by you."

"I have to woo you now?"

"You haven't already?"

"No!" he shouts. "Wait… have I?"

I smile at him, stepping a little closer. "You just gave me your car so I'd be safe. That's sounds an awful lot like wooing to me."

"But I… I didn't do that so you'd…"

"Take you out for a spin?"

"Donna!" he screeches.

"It's your cliché. I'm just following along."

"No! So you'd…" He takes a deep breath and speaks quietly. "I didn't give you the car so you'd… you know."

I smile softly at him. "Yes, I do know."

He smiles back for a second and then suddenly an alarmed look comes over his face. "That's not why you're… is it?"

I'm trying so hard not to laugh at him, but he's having a nutty. "Why I'm what Josh? You haven't even kissed me yet."

Now he looks like a dear in the headlights, which frankly, is a term I don't fully understand. "You want me to?"

"Are you really this bad at this?"

"Yes! You want… I can…" His voice turns to awe. "We're going to kiss?"

"Not because you gave me your car."

His brow furrows. "So we're not going to kiss?"

I laugh. "No, we're going to kiss. It just doesn't have anything to do with the car."

He thinks about this for a second. "Ok. But… it still counts as wooing?"

"Yes Josh, it still counts."

"Ok," he says nodding. There's a brief pause and then, "Ok, I'm going to… you know." He's gesturing again.

"I'm waiting."

He leans in close to me, one of his hands on my waist. He smiles a gorgeous smile at me and then… "Wait."

"I'm going to die an old woman in this office waiting for you to kiss me."

"Jeez, Donna. In a hurry?" he asks me while chuckling. He walks around me and shuts the door, giving us a little privacy. Ahh… Josh thinking before acting…well that's new.

He comes back and puts one hand on my cheek, the other on my waist again, drawing circles on my dress there. And then, at 7:05 on a Friday night, Josh Lyman kisses me.

And kisses me…

And kisses me…

I, being the mature one, pull back after what can only be described as the most amazing kissing session of my life. He pulls me back, dipping his head for more kissing. Just as his lips touch mine, I remind him that we have a state dinner to attend.

"But this is more fun."

I pull back again and start wiping lipstick from his mouth. "A trip to the dentist is more fun than a state dinner."

"But kissing you is more fun than that too."

I smile. "That's good to know." I adjust his bowtie one more time and go out to my desk to get my compact and lipstick. He follows me out and watches as I fix my lips.

"So… can I… mess that up again later?"

I chuckle, but don't look at him. "You may."

"And… maybe… every day after that?"

This takes me by surprise. I feel myself blush as our eyes meet through the mirror in my compact. "That sounds like a good plan."

He smiles back at me and offers me his arm. I close my compact and take it, and we walk together to the ballroom where we're… nah, he's going to be in trouble for being late to the pre-dinner reception.

"You know," I say casually on our way there. "When I bought The Beast from my grandmother for ten dollars, I also..."

"Had sex in the backseat," he reminds me.

I laugh and shake my head in mock disgust. "I was going to say that I had to agree to have dinner with her once a week, but why am I not surprised that you've chosen to remember that other small fact?"

"Donna!" he screeches in a whisper sort of screech. You have to hear it to understand it. "You described in explicit detail a sexual encounter you had in the back seat of a car! You call that a small fact?"

I hit him lightly on the arm. "I did no such thing."

"Well… you mentioned it. That's close enough."

"Pervert."

"I'm not a pervert so much as I'm…"

"Imagining us christening my new Audi?"

He smirks at me and leans in close to my ear. "Don't be ridiculous, Donna; I'm imagining us christening both Audis."


End file.
